JULIANS POV
By the time I reached the pack house, the adrenaline had worn off, leaving only exhaustion in its place. I leaned against the doorframe for a moment, trying to breathe.
Then I saw her.
Aliona stood near the infirmary wing, holding a basket of herbs, her hair tied in a messy braid. She looked up when she sensed me, her expression softening—then frowning when she saw the blood on my hands.
“Julian,” she said, rushing toward me. “What happened?”
“Training,” I lied.
Aliona gave me a look that said she didn’t believe a word of it. “With a wall, maybe.”
I smiled faintly. “Yeah,” my response was curt, brooding no opposition.
Aliona sighed, taking my hand and turning it over. Her fingers were cool against my skin, and when she brushed over the split knuckles, a faint warmth p
